Ragnarok
by Dragon Empress
Summary: (Post-TLA.) After the re-ignition of the lighthouses, the people of Weyard will find themselves facing a new darkness, and a group of heroes will fight together for the last time...
1. Prologue

ME: Hi all, and welcomes to my first chapter fic in a very long time. This story came to be last year actually, when it was much less, and called Dragon Moon. It was pretty basic story to be honest, an Isaac/Mia thing set post-TLA. Never went anywhere, but out of it came the basic idea for this...  
  
CHIBI JENNA: Now a year later, with a much, much better plot and far less romance, we bring you...Ragnarok!  
  
ME: After the disclaimer, of course.  
  
DISCLAIMER: DON'T OWN IT. DO OWN A VERY LOVELY PLUSHIE LEGOLAS DOLL THOUGH...THE PRRRRECIOUS...  
  
ME: Well then...enjoy.  
  
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_ The Gods' swords shine in the darkness  
Like stars in the night  
Mountains collapse into rubble  
And fiends shall fall  
Man walks the road to ruin  
As the sky splits in two  
  
-Taken from the Norse poem, Voluspa._

_ -#-_

_The First Age:_  
  
At dawn there was an explosion in the sky.  
  
This was the bringing of the age of humanity. It started as a tiny ball of light above the mountains, and then it spread, off in four directions to the corners of the continents.  
  
And in those places, four structures of immense height and power shook and trembled as they were engulfed. As did the town and villages that surrounded them, gathered at their bases like the worshippers they were.  
  
They were once the adepts. But after the dust cleared, they were gone. In each corner of the world only those great four great structures remained, robbed of their powers. There were no bodies, only dark clouds over the sky.  
  
And in the place where the light had begun, the humans, the men of darkness drank to what they had done. For they, in the end, had been victorious. The war was over.  
  
The light was out.

-#-

_"And what does that prove?"  
  
"That the humans will never understand."_

_ -#-_

_Modern Weyard, two years after the lighthouses were re-lit:_  
  
Not many from town attended the funeral.  
  
Standing round the gravesite, mostly, were young adults who stood there even in the rain, dressed in black and looking serious. The only others were the Mayor and a few parental figures who stood back, respectful of what they didn't know about the man they were burying.  
  
There had been no eulogy, just a burial. It was all done with a speed that bordered on distasteful, but that, in retrospect, was probably how he would have wanted it. His life had been so long, so putting him to rest quickly just seemed the better way.  
  
The rain got heavier, and the Mayor went home around noon. Soon, the rest of the adults followed suit, leaving only the seven who were assembled round the headstone.  
  
"They don't understand." The oldest youth remarked, watching as his own parents disappeared into the rain. He was tall and lean and dark-eyed, with tangled dark brown hair that kept falling down in front of his face, though he made no movement to push it away. "They didn't want to be here at all."  
  
"Would you, if you didn't understand?" A short young woman with dark red hair and similar features to the dark youth asked. There was an air about this girl, not quite arrogance, but still something. She didn't turn to watch her parents leave, and continued to gaze down at the grave with little respect. "It's not their fault."  
  
"I think we should go in now." Another young man, big and strong with a crown of red spikes, currently plastered to his skull by the rain. His amber eyes showed neither sadness or mourning as he surveyed the sky. It was very dark. "It's going to really pour down soon."  
  
"Alright." The girl nodded. "I don't fancy much getting soaked either." She turned to the others, who had so far been silent: two blonde youths, a blue haired man and another girl. "Coming?"  
  
The youngest of the other four nodded. He was lithe and small, and his face was still that of a very young man's, even though his violet eyes were darkened with something like intelligence. "Right."  
  
And the blonde girl agreed. She was the youngest of them all, and might have still been considered a child if things had perhaps been different. "There's a storm coming." And she could be sure of it.  
  
The blue man agreed too, tilting his head upwards to feel the rain on his face. His headband, adorned with a circle of gold, was held in his hands in an old symbol of respect for the dead. "The rain won't stop tonight."  
  
But the other shook his head. "I'm staying."  
  
"But-"  
  
"No. I want to stay. Just for a while." His tone left no room for argument.  
  
The oldest, dark haired man frowned, but put up no resistance. "If you must." And with the others he departed, leaving only the most silent alone at the grave.  
  
The last remaining mourner stared emptily down at the gravestone. His hair was dirty blonde and untamed, and fell carelessly in front of cobalt blue eyes.  
  
"You knew, didn't you?" His voice was cold and empty, and if you knew, so different from what it used to be. "You knew this would happen, and yet you let us continue."  
  
Of course, the gravestone did not answer, and the young man was left further unsatisfied. Dark images from dreams leaped out at his mind, swirling, manifesting themselves as questions. Ever since...  
  
Things were not as they used to be.  
  
The rain began to fall even harder, the first thrash of lighting tearing across the sky. The young man wiped the rain away from his eyes, suddenly feeling cold all over. It was time to go.  
  
The dead would not answer his questions.  
  
"Goodbye, Kraden."

-#-

_"Can't you promise me anything?"  
  
"I promise you this is not the end."_

_ -#-_

Whilst Vale was drowning, Imil was burning.  
  
Bright amber flames flickered high against a calm blue sky. Snow on the ground melted into pools of liquid as the fire spread faster than lightning across the straw of the rooftop. It crackled loudly and carelessly, oddly peaceful as it flickered and burned with no regard to the screams in the streets...or the odious smell of burning flesh...  
  
_Luckily, only horse flesh._ The priestess thought darkly, pulling her hood over her face as behind her the stables had been razed to the ground. Her own horse was skittish, perhaps some deep animal instinct had told it that it's fellows were dying, and it felt the urge to return to them.  
  
Too late for that. The priestess held the reigns tightly, forcing the horse along the rough, stone path. She could ignore the chaos behind her, it was nothing new. Too long had Imil burned, night after night. The new wave of revolution did not fade like the other clan members had sworn it would.  
  
_And now they're all dead._ But then, death was nothing new in Imil now either. _Alone, we have failed._  
  
The city of Imil could not stand alone any longer. The priestess pulled down her hood again, so that her face was completely hidden in shadow. _And if they refuse, we are truly lost._  
  
Behind her the flames rose even higher, carried on the cool wind across the weak thatched rooftops. The screams got louder, but were masked this time by the steady sound of marching feet.  
  
She did not look back.  
  
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ME: Intrigued? No? Not even a little bit? Oh, go on, you know you want to review... 


	2. Ch 1: Nonbeliever

ME: Well, I'll be damned. I never thought I'd be writing any more GS fanfics…let alone continuing this one.

DISCLAIMER: IF DRAGON EMPRESS OWNED GS, SHE LIKELY WOULDN'T HAVE NEGLECTED HER FANFICTIONS FOR SUCH A LONG TIME. HELL, SHE WOULDN'T EVEN BE WRITING FANFICTION…

ME: So yeah, I'm back…I think.

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_Lost in the sun, can anybody find their home?_

_-Sunshine, Keane_

-#-

The rain got colder as you travelled southwards.

As the snow disappeared and the sun stayed longer in the sky, somewhere near Kolima, the rain started to fall in relentless, icy sheets. It was unusual, even for one who had so quickly gotten accustomed again to the wintry climates of Imil and the north.

The priestess had been riding for over a day now, and the rain had threatened to sweep her away long ago. The clouds heaved, solidified in one great, raging grey mass. _Must be getting closer._

In the distance, the great shadow of the mountain loomed. And in her mind, memories burned…

-#-

_"It's time. We must ask our neighbouring towns for help." The mayor of Imil was a worn man, his handsome features marred with worry, and his thick black hair becoming tinged with grey. The hardness in his face betrayed his age, which was only about thirty years. "We will send out envoys to Kolima and Bilibin."_

_The priestess watched from her seat on the Clan council, reading the expressions on her few fellow members' faces. They were livid._

_"Excuse me, Ser Mayor." One of the elders stood up, regarding the younger man with obvious dislike. "But Imil has prevailed alone before, and we surely will prevail alone again."_

_There were mutters of agreement around the table._

_The mayor sighed. "If we do nothing, we will be destroyed."_

_"Imil has stood for a thousand years, Ser Mayor." Replied the elder scathingly. "We have seen rebellion and flames, and still we have survived. We will survive this too."_

_"Then so be it."_

-#-

In that one meeting, Imil had been condemned to destruction.

The priestess shook her head, spurring her horse onwards. The outline of the mountain was clearer than ever, even in the pouring rain and the echoing thunder

Though, her purpose was still clouded.

-#-

"Coming here? Who?"

The old chair creaked with the weight of the young man who threw himself into it. Garet of Vale was tired beyond belief, and found that, at this moment, he would hardly care even if an entire army were marching towards Vale let alone a solitary, nameless rider.

Alas, if his grandfather heard of this, he would never hear the end of it… "So, who is this horseman then?"

His companion, the young Jupiter adept, shook his head slightly. "Ah, horsewoman."

"Ivan…how can you tell?" The third man, Picard of Lemuria, enquired. Genuine wonderment was evident in his tone, as he considered himself something of a scholar. And of all things worth study in the world, the curious ways of the Wind adepts were some of the most…mysterious.

Ivan smiled thinly. "Just can."

"Oh, the anticipation." Garet was far from amused. His amber eyes seemed dull and unfocused. "How it kills me."

"Non-believer." But his smaller companion allowed his smile to stretch into a grin.

"Oh, I believe you. I just couldn't care less."

Picard sighed. "Perhaps you should." He stared resolutely into the fireplace, where the embers were slowly dying. Their faint glow barely managed to light the large room, leaving dark corners and throwing long shadows. Perhaps before he would have considered it strange that they always chose to hang around Isaac's house, even when he wasn't home. But it was something he'd gotten accustomed to. _Strange mainland customs as they are… _

"She's here." Ivan's voice was barely above a whisper. "I feel it. And…she feels familiar." The extent to which his powers had grown after the lighting of the lighthouses was quite astounding. Now every single person's aura felt different.

And this figure, this woman, felt very familiar indeed.

**Knock knock. **The sound on the door was hollow, and immediately Picard started towards it. Garet of course had made no effort to move at all, but the sudden cold as the door was open startled him. As did Picard's shocked exclamation,

"Mia!"

-#-

"So," It was not the beginning of a question. "You're back."

"Yes." Mia, former High Priestess of Imil, felt an involuntary shudder pass through her body as she looked up into the faces of her former comrades. The emotional turmoil of the past two years, past few months in particular, were starting to catch up with her. "I suppose you're all wondering why."

"That's putting it mildly, I'd say." From the old, scarred kitchen table Garet watched the blue-haired woman's nervous demeanour with interest. "I thought Imil _desperately _needed you?"

"Shut up, Garet." Jenna put a hand on his arm without really realising it. There was a curious look of almost…pity, perhaps, in her gaze as she looked at Mia. She had come over as soon as Ivan's alarmed voice had broken through her thoughts (His newfound ability to send messages telepathically still sat uncomfortably with her), and had been right to do so. Didn't take any special powers to realise that something was very wrong with the woman opposite.

"I am sorry for intruding on you all like this." There was something missing in her voice.

"Don't be ridiculous." And it was curious that Jenna found her voice coming out softer than usual. "It's only been two years."

"Yes, don't make a stranger of yourself just yet." Felix lounged like a complacent shadow against the kitchen doorway. His hair, which hadn't been cut since he was seventeen, was now tied back in a severe ponytail, allowing no strands to obstruct his vision.

_So like him. _Mia thought. Although, it was hard to say if it really was like him anymore. A lot could change in two years after all. _And don't I know it…_

"So why _are_ you here?" Even a thousand years wouldn't be able to rob Garet of his bluntness.

"It's…a long story." The Mercury adept rubbed her hands together, in an unconscious attempt to get warm. "Where's Isaac?"

Garet shrugged. "Damned if I know. He doesn't tell me anything these days." His eyes narrowed slightly. "Stop changing the subject."

Mia flushed slightly, but knew he was right. She was stalling for time, her mind trying frantically to find a suitable place to begin. If she could tell them everything, if she could even tell- "I suppose I'll just start at the beginning. When I left you all to return to Imil, I found that already it was not the place I remembered…"

-#-

_If you looked up at the sky you could almost pretend that nothing had changed at all. It remained that lucid, pearly white, a solid mass of clouds harbouring snow as it had always been. That much was unchanging._

_But to look at the streets…oh, there was change. The old houses were no longer uniform, but instead daubed in various differing colours, painted over with strange banners and unfamiliar insignias._

_Her voice almost went unheard above the whipping winds. "What is all this?" A feeling of dread had begun to gnaw away at the pit of her stomach._

_The mayor stared at her, his sad, brown eyes studying every inch of her pale face. "The rise of politics." He muttered. "The people are restless, Lady, now that the Golden Sun has risen, powers are sparking in people once too weak in spirit to feel alchemy's effects. They will no longer stand for being without a say…not now that they feel so powerful."_

_It was said with obvious contempt, and she couldn't help but frown. "Isn't that a good thing?"_

_"Don't be so damn naïve."_

_"I…"_

_"No, I'm sorry." He rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I didn't mean to snap. It's just…as a result of this new power, so many will die needlessly." There was at this time no hint of grey in his hair. "Revolution cannot be borne out of anything except for chaos."_

_"Then is it not our duty to ensure that such a thing never takes place?"_

_And now he smiled. "Yes. Yes, it is."_

-#-

"So you became involved in politics yourself." Picard's interest was now definitely peaked. His memories of the politicians back home were far from good, and it was almost impossible to imagine Mia as one of them.

She smiled bitterly at him. "You could say that."

"But why come back now?"

The female mercury adept looked down at the table, mercifully unable to see her reflection in the ancient table. I probably look half-dead by now. "Things have gotten worse."

"Worse?" Ivan, who had been silent for the majority of the conversation, could now feel the sorrow coming off her in waves. "How?"

"Every single member of the Imil Clan Council is dead…" Shudders once again racked her body, and the room seemed to spin and blur. "Every single member…except for me." She fought down the urge to vomit that had suddenly manifested itself, and instead settled for passing out abruptly and falling backwards towards the floor.

Only to be caught at the last moment by a pair of arms that were both warm and familiar.

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ME: Out of practise or what, eh? Feel free to tell me it sucks, but I do (Hopefully) intend on continuing this at a faster pace than before. Of course, a snail with a keyboard could go faster than that…

Oh, and reviews are very nice, I likes them very much…


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